


The Calendar is Not an Excuse

by GinnyK



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15112052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyK/pseuds/GinnyK
Summary: Post Ep -We Killed Yamamoto





	The Calendar is Not an Excuse

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

By the time I look back over my shoulder Amy's already turned the corner, hurrying off to her place. I lean up against a street lamp and trying to calm down. I take a few deeps breaths cause frankly; I'm not feeling very well at the moment. A million things are going through my mind; I can't seem to get my breathing under control. A car just backfired a few blocks away and someone's stereo is blasting out an open window. I'm in PTSD hell. If my current situation doesn't send me head first into an episode I think maybe I'm slowly but surely getting better.

I somehow manage to stumble back to the White House in one piece, not sure how I did that. Much to my disappointment Donna has gone home for the night. I shouldn't be surprised; after all, it is almost one in the morning. But she left a note on my desk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josh,

Couldn't get you on your cell. I'm worried about you. Call me, doesn't matter what time it is.

Donna

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I drop into the chair and reach for the phone. As I hit the speed dial number I realize I have no idea what I'm going to say. I try to take a deep breath while I wait for her to answer the phone.

"Josh?"

"Yeah it's me."

"You ok, I couldn't reach you on your cell."

"Had a little accident in the kitchen with my phone."

"Whatever. I, uh, heard what happened in the Oval Office. You want to talk about it?"

I hear the worry in her voice and I can picture her pacing around her apartment.

"I don't know. It's late, you should get some sleep." I mutter.

"Josh, do you want me to come back? We can work for a while." she offers.

"No, I don't see myself getting anything done now. It's just...I don't know...it's just..."

"May?"

"Yeah." I whisper.

"OK, pack up your stuff and go home, I'll be over in half an hour."

"Donna, it's one in the morning. You really don't have to come over and watch me wallow in self-pity."

"Josh, I'm coming over so just hang up the phone and get going."

"Fine."

We hang up and I grab my bag and head out to my car.

Forty minutes later I've taken a shower and I'm standing in front of my bathroom mirror wearing boxers and my untied bathrobe. I'm trying to decide if the scar on my chest is any less noticeable than it was the last time I really took a close look at it a few weeks ago. I don't think it really is but it's faded a lot in the past two years. I can't believe it has been two years already.

The sound of Donna letting herself in with her key brings me back to the present.

"Josh?"

"In the bathroom."

I hear her in the living room, probably hanging up my bag that I dropped in the middle of the floor.

A minute later I look up to see Donna's reflection in the mirror. She lifts her eyes, moving her gaze from my chest up to meet my eyes. I can feel myself turn red as I quickly tie my robe closed. I turn around and hop up to sit on the counter.

"Hey. You really didn't need to come over, I'm fine." I mutter, trying my best to actually look fine.

"Josh, I've known you long enough to know when you're fine and when you're not. You're not."

She takes a step forward and wraps her arms around me. My head drops to her shoulder. I chuckle to myself as I realize the nice fabric against my face is the soft flannel of Donna's pajamas.

"Pajamas?"

"Well, I figured I would eventually end up falling asleep." she says with a laugh. "You want to talk?"

I shake my head and she starts to rub my back gently. That's what undoes me and the tears and everything I've been holding back for what seems like days floods out.

Donna silently comforts me, letting me get it all out. I pull myself together after a little while. She wipes my tears and kisses my forehead. She reaches over my shoulder and grabs the bottle of Advil out of the medicine cabinet. I take two with some water as I watch her hang up my towel and toss my dirty clothes in the hamper. This should really be awkward but it's not, it's just us. Donna finishes her cleaning and leans up against the counter next to me.

"So, you think maybe we could actually get out of the bathroom?" she asks with a smirk.

I nod and slid off the counter, pulling Donna out of the room by her hand.

We settle down on the couch, under the quilt my mother made.

"So, ready to talk now?"

"Suppose. How much do you know about what happened in the Oval Office?"

"Enough to know I should probably check up on you. Enough to feel the need to ask if you had a...thing." she asks quietly, using the euphemism that encompasses a wide variety of "things".

"No, I didn't. Thought I was headed in that direction though." I say with a heavy sigh.

Donna scoots to one end of the couch and tosses a pillow in her lap. I smile at her wordless invitation and curl up with my head in her lap. She brushes back my still damp hair and motions for me to continue.

"He was right you... the President. Everything he said was right on the money. I have been screwing up left and right for a long time now. Tobacco, the tape, the welfare bill. Who knows what else I'll screw up this month?"

"First of all, you didn't screw all those things up this month."

"Whatever."

"Josh, it's May.."

"I can't go on using that for the rest of my life, Donna. The damn calendar is not an excuse." I say as I try to sit up but am held back by Donna's arm across my chest.

"Listen to me, please?" she says quietly, a hint of pleading in her voice.

I nod for her to continue as I curl back up.

"You ever stop to think that the month of May is hard for everyone, not just you? You were all victims at Rosslyn; you all took Mrs. Landingham's death very hard last year. And to some extent you're still dealing with the MS issue. The election is picking up, you're all tired. Things just get said in the heat of the moment. Do you really think the President planned on reaming you out in front of a room full of people?"

"No. I think he was as shocked by his words as I was. He also said some things about..."

"Amy?"

I can only nod.

"What's going on with the two of you?"

"I don't even know where to begin. I like her, I really do. We have fun together. But I get the feeling she's using me."

"Joshua, sorry to put it so bluntly but anyone with half a brain can see she's using you. She's a power-dater, remember."

I open my mouth a few times to say something but don't actually utter any words. I'm a little shocked at how blunt Donna can be when it comes to Amy.

"Sorry."

"No. Don't worry about it. If the shoe fits and all that crap. I mean, she tossed my phone into a pot of stew..."

"She what?" asks Donna, trying not to laugh hysterically.

"You heard me, look I don't want to talk about it anymore. I just...I'm so tired of coming up with excuses, tired of having a million and one problems to solve at one time. Tired of looking at the damn calendar on my desk and seeing the month of May."

"Do you honestly think things are going to drastically improve when you tear that page off?"

"No, but I think that my outlook will. People will stop staring at me with a look of pity, waiting for me to lose it."

"Have I been doing that?"

"What?"

"Giving you the look of pity?"

"Yeah, but it's ok coming from you." I say with a grin. "I know it's cause you care."

Even in the dimly lit room I can see her blush. "Yeah, I do care. I wouldn't be here in my pajamas at almost 2 in the morning if I didn't care."

I find the power of speech has once again left me so I settle for squeezing Donna's hand to convey my thoughts. My eyes are getting heavy and I hear her whisper, "Close your eyes, it's ok, I'm right here," as she runs her fingers through my hair.

An hour or so later I wake up suddenly. Donna's sound asleep at the other end of the couch. Our legs are tangled up under the quilt and she has one hand wrapped around my right foot. I pull the quilt up a little higher under my chin and close my eyes again.

Before I drift back off I vow to make this day a better one. One where I don't need excuses for my actions, one where I don't blame anything on the calendar.

  



End file.
